The Dead Lands
by TheDaedalusGun
Summary: Awakening from a testing facility long abandoned, Bolt Uzumaki finds himself thrust into a world far different than his own; a world of war. Far from home and alone, Bolt must rid himself of the child he is and become a man. A man who has the strength to stand up for the oppressed. A man who has the ability to bring hope back to the hopeless. A man of no second chances.
1. Prologue

**_The Dead Lands - Prologue_**

He'd always loved the rain.

Never really knew why. Just enjoyed it. It was calming. It washed away the filth and the grime of the city, cleansing the filthy stone and glass. It gave the air that musty rain smell. People didn't idle in the streets, either. Everything was quiet; serene.

Bolt Uzumaki sat up, back propped against his pillow, staring out the window of his hospital room. Rain tapped playfully on the window, beckoning him to come outside. He wished he could, but his doctors wouldn't take it well when they found him soaking wet with waterlogged bandages. So, instead, he simply sat in his bed and watched. Watched and waited. He could feel the presence coming down the hall. Even wounded and exhausted, he wasn't blind. The presence stopped outside the door, briefly interacting with the two other signatures, Anbu, no doubt, and then entered.

A slight pause followed the sound of the door closing, then followed by footsteps crossing the floor. A chair scraped over, and someone sat down. Silence.

"Bolt?"

He turned his gaze from the window. Facing the foot of his bed, across a small table, his father sat watching him. He looked tired. So, so tired. Dark bags hung under his eyes, his hair wild. His orange clothes and Hokage cape were a disheveled mess. A tense silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the light flicks of rain on the windows and the distant echo of thunder. The man eyed him with something between sorrow and caution. Bolt simply offered him a very tired, very slight smile.

"So, you gonna go first, or what? How's this work?" Bolt asked, opting to be the icebreaker. His father held his expression.

"Bolt, take this seriously," His father replied. "You scared a lot of people. They don't know what to do about you." He took out a small tape recorder and a notepad, placing them on the table.

"I scared them?" Bolt began, "How so?" His tone not one of questioning, more of indifference. He looked back out the window.

"Your power. You overwhelmed them. That much strength-"

"Is no different than you." The young Uzumaki cut him off. His eyes shifted back to his dad. "I mean, really, think about it. Under you and Sasuke, how far down in the next strongest person? Or the average Jounin, for that matter? How is that any different?" The Hokage was silent for a moment, thinking of an answer.

"I'm the Hokage. They look at me different." His son leaned back, eyes on the ceiling.

"But you weren't the Hokage. Not always. When Madara Uchiha tried to take over the world, you weren't Hokage. How much stronger were you then? Or when Toneri cut the moon in half? Yeah, when you creamed a guy SO strong, he _cut the moon in half_? Were you Hokage then?"

Bolt sighed, leaning up once more, his bandaged left arm resting against his chest, right arm straining under the weight of his battered body. With an audible grunt, he managed to sit himself up. He looked back at his dad.

"So. What's this about? Why am I so different?"

Naruto looked down at his hands, then back to the young man.

"Bolt," He started, "We thought you were dead... you've been gone for three years. Why didn't you come back sooner?" The beginnings of tears brimmed on the man's eyes, his face now a myriad of sadness and concern.

Bolt sighed.

"Turn on the recorder."

Naruto looked momentarily puzzled, but did as he was told.

Bolt turned his eyes out the window. In the distance, thunder flashed down from the clouds and struck the side of a mountain.

"You'll have to be patient. It's a very long story. There are parts I'm proud of, and many I'm not. But to understand it all, or at least get a sense of why I made the decisions I've made, you'll have to hear it all." He turned his face back to his father, a crooked grin spread between his cheeks.

"Besides, I'm not moving for a while. What else is there to do?"

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **Author's notes:**

 **So I know it's short, but hey, it is a prologue. And I wanted to go ahead and get it out there. Chapter One is in the works, and will be out soon, though I feel the need to tell you there won't be any set release date for chapters. They'll be out when I'm ready. Quality over quantity. I prefer a better story to a quickly released one.**

 **In case you don't like Bolt (most people don't), Let me give a quick breakdown on how this story's Bolt differs from the real one, so there isn't TOO much exposition as the story begins:**

 **Bolt's issues with his father stem from the fact that the man has trouble separating his two jobs, father and Hokage. That being said, this Bolt isn't loud and arrogant; he isn't boastful, he isn't a grinning fool, and he isn't as overpowered as the story started him at. Bolt's talents reside in his ability to analyze a situation or an area, plotting out the correct moves to make and executing them. Think Sherlock Holmes, but dumbed down. Bolt knows the basics of the Rasengan, but has yet to be able to replicate it without shadow clones, a skill which he knows, but doesn't rely on. His chakra is high Chunin level, due to his parentage, but not higher than that. He heals faster than average, and has alot of stamina, but not quite Jinchuriki level. He's quiet at the time the story starts, like Sasuke was in Part One, but not as arrogant, for lack of a better word. When he does speak, he's either straight to the point serious, though that only happens when there's danger, or he's quite soft spoken and witty in his jokes. Since his serious side is so rare, he gives off the impression he doesn't really care, opting to joke about everything in some sarcastic manner. As a result of this, his family and friends, team included, see him as a bit of a wild card. They never know what he's really thinking, and has surprised them on several occasions with his Nara-esque breakdown of a situation, though not that often, since by this point of the story he's twelve years old. Bolt did not cheat in the Chunin exams in this timeline, and there was no Otsutsuki battle. The exams went on as normal. He did get defeated by Sarada in the final battle, though was not bothered by this. He expected it from someone who aspires to one day become Hokage. Bolt's closest friends are Shikadai, Inojin, Metal Lee, Mitsuki, and Sarada, with Sarada being his closest. She knows him better than anyone, and knows what he thinks most of the time, though he's still a bit of a mystery to her.**

 **Naruto, while wise, strong, and an excellent leader, has difficulty dealing with him. He worries he doesn't care for the world he's helped build. Having been an orphan, Naruto struggles to effectively act as a father with his son. He seems to use his job's duties as cover, unable to be a father when he has the time, and unable to be a Hokage when Bolt wishes to be treated as a real shinobi. Hinata sees Bolt as harnessing a lot of anger towards his father, when in reality Bolt just sees Naruto as someone who both can't put a line between Bolt as a son and a ninja, and someone who unfairly shoulders the burden of the village. He sees his father as someone who takes on all the problems when so many others could help. Bolt is 12 after all, and by no means perfect; his viewpoints aren't entirely false or true. The again, neither are Naruto's actions and views. This story is about flawed people, REAL people, trying their best.**

 **This story will lift heavily in the opening of Chapter One from my story 'Subject 371' because I love that opening, though less will be revealed.**

 **In terms of raw power, Bolt may well end up as strong as Naruto or Sasuke, but he's going to be a smarter fighter. Less jutsu, more stealth.**

 **So yeah. Let me hear your ideas, your criticisms, and your questions. Also, I do think there will be pairing, just undecided as to who yet, and the story won't be centered around that.**


	2. Chapter One - Dust

**The Dead Lands - Chapter One - Dust**

 **Naruto is owned by Kishimoto. This is a non-profit fan adaptation. Please support the official release.**

 _click! Hummmmm..._

The old terminal's screen lit up, casting a very faint red light onto the dust-covered chair in front of it. Across the monitor, rapid sequences of numbers and file names began to run, along with commands for the system. The machine clunked and sputtered, attempting to execute it's primary function without lighting itself on fire or falling apart.

All across the room, the consoles and dashboards began to glow, life re-entering their dusty carcasses, the warmth of power flushing into their electronic veins. The single fluorescent light in the room flashed once and popped, cascading sparks onto the concrete floor.

In front of the panels, a large glass tank filled with liquid began to hum. The object in the tank stayed immobile. Lights on the structure dimly awoke from their long sleep. One, more bright than others, was at the top of the tank, illuminating a series of numbers rusted over and unrecognizable.

The computer's screen went blank for nearly a minute, until one final command echoed across all systems.

 _Execute Activation Sequence._

The tank shot steam and coolant from the vents, as the hydraulic door controls attempted to wrench the front off the device. It was no use. Too much corrosion had been done. The tank's occupant opened it's eyes, frantically trying to understand it's situation. It began to panic, moving its arms around the container, pushing at the glass, until finally after a well thrown strike, the front panel shattered as it succumbed its age.

The subject slid out of the shattered container with a wave of greenish, water-like fluid, landing on its knees, supporting its frame with both hands on the ground. The liquid disappeared into the metal grates that surrounded the tank. The occupant, still struggling for breath, still confused, grew weary from the steady thump of his adrenaline fueled heart. He gasped in air, leaned forward, and vomited. Bile drained down the grates as the man hacked and coughed, his lungs grasping wildly for oxygen.

As the fluids drained and his heartbeat stabilized to a normal rate, Bolt Uzumaki struggled to grasp the situation. Everything burned, his arms wobbled under his own weight, his mind was blank.

 _R... running... I was... I was running..._

Images of the open sea flashed before him, pillars of water rising around the ship as cannon fire pelted the area.

 _My team... we... we were on a mission?_

Konohamaru was shouting orders, a thin trail of blood running down the side of his face. Mitsuki held Sarada's arm over his shoulder, her leg bent at an awkward angle, her face pained.

 _We were under fire, and..._

Everything slowed. A thin whistle was heard over the noise, Konohamaru's face mirroring panic. He began to scream 'get-' but was cut off. A white flash, then wood splinters. The ship...

Bolt grew still.

The ship had been blown in half.

 _Oh, god... Oh shit..._

He'd been swept under the waves, and everything went black. What had happened to his team? His friends? Had they...

 _No. I can't think about that. I have to take care of my problems, then that._

His father's 'lessons for a ninja' began to take over. One important rule was always take care of your own issues before others'; if you didn't, you'd likely get someone killed. Bolt exhaled, then inhaled, opening his eyes. Blurred darkness and the faint shape of his body met his gaze. He blinked several times, clearing his vision. The first thing he noticed was how unbelievably dark it was. The second was his arms; they were bone thin, and very, very pale. The third was his hair, reaching all the way to the floor as he kneel down on all fours.

 _What the hell... How long have I been under?_

Bolt imagined this must be what coma patients felt like after waking up. He looked up, into the room he was in, illuminated only by the single screen of a terminal. Everything was covered in dust, broken chairs and various clutter covering the floors.

 _Abandoned. But there's power._

He attempted to stand, legs weary, using the side of his 'tank' for support. He took several minutes to stretch and bend his limbs, only growing confident enough to move forward when they felt somewhat responsive. He took a shuffling step forward, feeling his way across the nearly pitch black floor, then followed with a second foot. Bolt didn't want to trip and break something here. He doubted there was a hospital nearby. He reached a sort of console desk after almost two minutes, feeling around for the drawers. He grasped the handle when he found it, yanking it open with a rather unpleasant rusty screech, and gently laid his hand inside. He slid his fingers across the contents of the drawer, passing over pencils and papers, finding nothing of interest. Moving on to the next one, he found a small box of paper clips.

 _That could be useful... do I have pockets?_

He hadn't even checked for clothes. He felt down by his waist and thighs, finding what seemed to be some form of rather baggy boxer shorts, the material a sort of wet-suit type fabric.

 _No pockets... no pants, either._

He held the clips in one hand as he scoured the drawers, finding nothing of interest. After what seemed like minutes, he found a small windproof lighter.

 _Yes! Lucky day... Now lets see if it works._

He flipped the top open, moving his thumb down to the flint. He gave it a spin. Nothing. He tried it again. Again. Again.

 _Come on, I need this..._

Bolt gave it one final flick, small sparks clicking, the slight flame sputtering wildly before settling and growing in size. Bolt audibly sighed in relief. He never knew how much he took fire for granted, until he couldn't make it. Hell, he could barely walk. Molding chakra would be suicide. He took a look around the room. The desks held the usual: papers, old rusted terminals, and writing supplies. Nothing useful lined the walls, either. Charts and graphs were all good fun, but didn't aid much in survival. Bolt moved across the room to the glowing terminal next to the two large iron doors. The screen was blank, and upon typing several things, the terminal fizzled, popped, and went dark.

 _Well, fuck you too._

Bolt moved over to the doors, pushing them with his right hand. Nothing. He moved his other hand up, and pushed harder. With great effort and an extremely loud creak, the doors swung open. Before him lay a long hallway, wreathed in darkness. Bolt's eye turned towards his lighter, the flame whipping around ever so slightly.

 _Wind... like a cave. So there's a way out somewhere._

Bolt trudged forward, past empty rooms and sealed doors, past great iron bulkheads and more hallways. Bolt followed the flame, using the walls as his supports, finding more strength as he continued. The minutes ticked by as Bolt became more and more aware of the dwindling flame he held in his hand. Eventually, a light began to show at the end of the hallway. Bolt flicked the lighter off as soon as he could see, and began moving forward. Cold air began to pass over the young ninja, the smell of the sea wafting into his nostrils. The light grew brighter and as he walked onward, the young man began to wonder if he was dead and this was all just the last thoughts of a drowning ninja.

He turned a corner, shielding his eyes and entering a massive room. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he gasped. Before him lay a massive vault door, opened, the actual door itself to the side of the opening on some sort of railing. The opening, shaped like a gear, must've been fifty feet across. Outside, Bolt saw only light. He sighed, took in a gulp of air, and moved to the door. Stepping over the threshold, Bolt wondered what he was about to step into.

If only he knew.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Naruto sat back in his chair, watching his son carefully. The boy sat in the bed, flexing his bandaged hand, watching the rain fall into streams across the windows. Though Naruto supposed he wasn't a boy anymore. He'd have to correct himself of that thought. He broke the silence.

"So where were you?" Bolt turned to look at him. "Bolt... you've been missing three years. Where were you?"

The bandaged blonde stared at his father, his expression and gaze unwavering. He sighed.

"The Dead Lands."

Naruto's eyes widened.

He didn't expect that. Of course, who would? Most people had heard the stories. But most people assumed they were just that. Just some scary story told around a campfire or in a dimly lit bar. Tales of men so powerful, they rattled mountains with their fists. Tales of beasts who moved faster than Anbu. Tales of a land where physics and time did not apply.

Naruto put his elbows on the table, hands clasped, and rested his forehead on them. Bolt shuffled his legs, numb from being idle.

"Surprised?" He asked, not looking in his father's direction. "I would be. I didn't think the place was real. Not until I was there." He attempted to stand, motioning for his father to remain seated as he tried to get up and help. "All those tales you've heard? All true. It'd probably be easier to tell you which ones aren't, rather than the reverse." He walked over to the window, stretching his battered and frail legs. "I suppose I should explain." He reached the glass pane, leaning on the windowsill and turned towards his old man.

"The Dead Lands is a sort of magnet. See, the whole world contains nature chakra. Its everywhere, and its pure. And all chakra remains existing. Kaguya proved this when she came back to steal it all. See, when you expend chakra, it simply leaves your body as chakra, but in a different form, one you can't re-use. So. The good chakra becomes nature chakra, and when you've used your chakra up, and it starts regenerating, you re-absorb this chakra through your body, and it changes to your body's actual chakra. Sage mode simply keeps it in its 'nature' form. Hence, all chakra never goes away. Which begs the question... where does the bad chakra go?" A mischievous grin spread across his cheeks as he began pacing the room. "The Dead Lands is where the voodoo happens. It draws it in, and it influences everyone there. Greed, war, murder, hate, all that jazz. Now, the reason why you can't really get there is the storm band. Now it's your turn, dad. What's the storm band?"

Naruto replied, keeping his gaze on his boy, brow raised. "I don't know."

"Well, you know that intense chunk of storms that spans towards the far north? About five times the size of the Elemental Nations?" Naruto nodded, realization spreading across his face.

"That's it?" He asked, head turned to the side. Bolt nodded.

"Yep. That's it. Only it isn't solid. It's a ring, about fifty miles thick. And you wouldn't know that because nobody from the nations has ever passed through it. Know why?" This time Naruto had an answer.

"The winds blow south. The storms can't be passed through because you're going North, against the wind, in the worst storms on the sea." Bolt nodded once more.

"Exactly. You're pretty sharp for an old man." For the first time tonight, Naruto actually smiled.

"Okay," the Hokage began, "How'd you pass through, then?" Bolt sighed.

"Well, I can't tell you that. Spoilers." He smiled, but when his dad began to speak, he elaborated. "Look, just... let me tell the story. I haven't seen you in three years, and we didn't exactly part that well, then I show up and nearly give the world a heart attack, and now... you don't look like you trust me. So just... just let me tell the story, okay? Get to know me for who I am now, and get your little debriefing out of the way." He waved his hand at the word 'debriefing'. Naruto sighed, then stood, walking over to the battered young ninja. He lifted his arms, enveloping the boy in a hug. For a moment, it seemed like Bolt was going to struggle. Then he returned the gesture.

"I love you, Bolt. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. I know. Love you too." The boy rested his chin on the Hokage's shoulder. They pulled apart after a full minute.

"You're quite tall," The Hokage commented. Bolt smiled.

"Yeah, well. I got your height, and I got mom's... uh... Shit, what'd I get from her?" He scratched the back of his head in thought, and at this, Naruto actually laughed.

"You have your mother's intelligence. After all, I was dead last in my class, and you... well, the word 'prodigy' comes to mind." He smiled, then walked back to his seat.

"So, you left this 'base'?"

Bolt nodded. "Yeah, the base... abandoned for quite some time, on an island with a bay shaped like a crater..."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Bolt sat twenty feet inside the vault door, sitting cross-legged, papers spread out before him. Past the papers was a small campfire, a hunk of meat roasting on a stick above the flames, sizzling and putting off a fine aroma. Bolt sat studying the papers, trying to get an idea of what exactly the facility was. A small, leather bound book sat to his left; to his right, a tan backpack. He wore a black pair of cargo pants, the bottoms rolled up to just below his knees. The pants were the only clothing he'd found. He sat the papers down, then picked up the journal and began writing.

 _It's been five days, give or take. Don't know what the date is. The island is unpopulated, with no real predators. Biggest thing I've seen was a couple wild boar. The 'vault', as I've taken to calling it, is some sort of science facility. A lot of work on body modification, genetic alterations, and other things of that nature. These people were brilliant. On more than one occasion, it seems they were able to fuse the cells of very powerful ninja, including Hashirama Senju. Frightening thought. A sign keeps appearing, as well. An eye, looking upwards. The Vault is abandoned, stripped bare of valuables, though quite a bit of information is left, as well as unsuccessful experiments. Not pleasant to see. Found pants, a hunting knife, and some various junk I can use, put it in a bag I found. Not much to go on from there. In the distance, there is a very large island, volcano in center. I've began building a makeshift raft, going to head there soon. Shouldn't be too far. Twenty miles? Maybe more._

 _Sidenote: I know how to skin a boar. Killed one, skinned it, ate it. Dad taught me survival techniques, but I never did more than skin a rabbit. Once. And I knew exact parts of the boar, and butchering methods. Not sure what that means. What did they do to me while I was under?_

Bolt closed the journal, setting it aside as he removed the meat. With no plates or cutlery available, he took a chunk out of it with a single bite, meat still skewered with a stick. Several things still bothered Bolt, things he hadn't written down. For one, he looked about a year older, three at most. Despite this, the base looked like it had been abandoned for ten years, at the least. Bolt had been rummaging through it's vast hallways and rooms. While rather dusty and ramshackle, it seemed intact. No structural damage, no moisture seeping through the walls, and there was even power in some areas. Bolt had yet to find the source, though, and he doubted even the lighting would hold if it had power shoved through its wires. The terminals certainly didn't.

As far as he could tell, the whole 'vault' was laid out flat, and if there was more than one level, he hadn't found it yet. It was built into the side of a small mountain, the opening in the mouth of a small cavern, wide mouthed and facing the beach. The beach, about one eight of a mile wide, ten miles long, wrapped around the crater shaped bay on the island. The Vault rested inside the mountain, spanning many hallways and rooms. Bolt thought it would roughly be twice the size of the academy if the building was laid out flat in one floor. The island it was on was around the size of Konoha. The crater bay flanked on either side by a flat plateau, the mountainous area to the bottom. The mountain had thick jungle around the base, the top being less dense with fauna, though not quite snow capped; it wasn't that tall. Bolt sat in the large room, sketching out a small map of the island. Crackling embers popped as the flame licked the air, humid wind from the sea flowing inside the opened door. As Bolt was sketching, he stopped.

 _The temperature dropped..._

He looked towards the opening, cool air flowing inside, washing over him. He took all his papers and his journal and stuffed them into the bag, just before a powerful, frigid gust of air smashed through the room and blew his campfire out, the glowing embers and ash spreading over the ground where his notes had been moments before. He jumped up, jogging to the door, his limbs moving faster than they had just a few days before, but still slower than they should. A flash of green light enveloped the room, followed two seconds later by a sound of thunder, the noise so loud Bolt literally fell over from the force.

 _Green lightning?! What the-_

He was knocked from his confusion as another flash lit the room, followed by a less loud crack four seconds later. Bolt staggered to the door, looking out through the cavern and into the darkness. He saw nothing, only heard the waves cresting on the beach and felt the unbelievably powerful winds tear through the opening and into the hallways. Suddenly, in the clouds, a massive green crack of lightning split down into the sea, the clouds crackling and the sea illuminated where the lightning crashed. For a brief moment, the world was bright. Every thought in Bolt's mind went silent.

The waves were nearly one hundred feet tall, the wind tearing trees from the ground. The sea smashed the beach with such force that sand was ripped away, revealing jagged rocks and earth. The clouds swirled over the water, as if cyclones would tear down in a moment's notice. The makeshift raft Bolt had been constructing was lifted into the air life a child's toy thrown by a tailed beast, falling into the waves and shattering into splinters. The lightning and its aftershocks faded, the world growing black once more. Bolt slid down, back to the wall, turning away from the opening and taking cover just beside the open door.

 _If I'd been on that... My God, there wasn't even a cloud in the night sky five minutes ago..._

Bolt stared at the far wall, blank and terrified. He'd never seen a storm like this. He didn't even think there _were_ storms like this. Even hurricanes took time to form, but this...

This was _fast._

It was this moment, cold and alone, the sheer rage of nature screaming and tearing the world apart in the outside world mere feet away, that Bolt realized his situation. It hadn't really sunk in. He hadn't realized just how far from home he was. How far from his family he was.

No one was coming. No one cared. He was most likely thought dead.

Bolt brought his knees to his chest, shivering in the cold, and tucked his face between his knees. He began to cry.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Bolt looked to his father, taking notes and studying the sketch Bolt had made for him of 'Crater Island'. He hadn't told him the last part. Why worry the man, anyway? Outside, a bolt of lightning cracked down, somewhere just inside the city. It seemed so small and quiet.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Several days had passed since the storm, and Bolt had taken time to build a far stronger raft. He'd gone more for speed this time. Anything too large, and he wouldn't be able to control it, and anything too slow, and the next storm would decimate him. He needed to cross the expanse of water quickly and easily. As he stood on the back of the small craft, hand on the rudder, he breathed in the fresh salty air. It was a sharp contrast to the black waters and the green lightning he'd seen just days before. He dipped a hand into the sea, running it through his hair, the cool wind and water helping to keep the hot sun from becoming too much of a bother. If he put aside his problems, he actually found he was enjoying himself. After all, Bolt always believed that dwelling on things you couldn't fix. Best to simply move forward. He looked around him, the fresh teal water glistening with sunlight. To his left, nothing. To his right, a small pod of whales. He watched them with a strange fascination, their backs and tails rising and falling from the water, spewing sea from their blowholes, little rainbows dancing in the crystalline mist. He laughed aloud, throwing his head back and letting the wind slide over his body.

About four hours later, Bolt was about a mile off from the island. He'd made good time, about an average of twenty knots, give or take. Bolt had been incredibly lucky, with a powerful wind on his side, and little waves. He'd severely underestimated the island, too. He'd thought it was only twenty miles off, and in reality, it was much more. So much, in fact, he had no idea how far away it was. It had to be the size of the Elemental Nations, _AT LEAST._ It was like the distance was distorted, somehow. The volcano was so high, he could barely make out the top through the clouds, and from his position, he could see at least three different biomes, on _one side_ of the island. There was a massive jungle, spreading out across the southern tip, a very long grassland stretched between it and the north, with a frozen tundra to the very northern tip. A column of black smoke wafted from the mouth of the volcano, reaching high into the sky and drifting off into the distance. Bolt came closer and closer to the island, wondering just what he was about to get into. The raft slid into shallow water as the minutes ticked by, the tide carrying it onto the beach. Bolt sighed, watching the trees of the vast jungle dance in the wind, taking a heavy step into the wet sand.

No going back now.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **So here's the first real chapter. This bottom section will be used to explain things, so the story doesn't feel weighed down by exposition, and so I can explain things here in simpler terms. I feel if I do that, the conversation of the story will feel more realistic.**

 **To start, the Vault he woke up in was very dusty, with debris scattered about, but was structurally sound, and will play a role as a sort of 'home base' later in the story. It's layed out flat under the mountain, with the entrance room holding a very large Vault door, styled like in Fallout, which will play a design influence in this story, but not a large one. For instance, the terminals and the look of the Vault as a whole feels very 'Fallout' like.**

 **The weather in The Dead Lands is influenced by the violent and unstable chakra there, with periods of absolutely nothing, followed by massive storms which appear in literally one to five minutes. Day can turn to black clouds with no signs of warning.**

 **Bolt's weakness accounted for his lack of using chakra. As he spent time up and moving, his chakra and naturally quick healing allowed him to feel better and regain muscle mass quicker than normal, though he's still weak. The crying scene was because... well, he's a thirteen year old kid. He's alone, weak, and scared. And he's human.**

 **So let me know what you think. Hope you enjoyed it!**


End file.
